PS 


BVRGCi 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

DAVIS 


BURCEJ  JOHNSON 

PICTURES  TO  CORRE.SPOND 


PIIBIISNERI 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERS11Y  OF  CALIFORNIA 


COPYRIGHT,  1906, 
BY  THOMAS  Y.   CROWELL  &  Co. 

Published,   October,  IQ36. 


TO    THE 

LLAMAS,  VICUNAS,  PUMAS,  TAPIRS,  GUANACOS, 
ARMADILLOS,  CHINCHILLAS,  PULGUITAS,  FRI- 
JOLES,  AND  OTHER  GAME-BIRDS  OF  BOLIVIA, 
ABOUT  TO  BE  HUNTED,  THIS  LITTLE  BOOK  IS 
SYMPATHETICALLY  AND  ENCOURAGINGLY  DED 
ICATED  BY  THE  HUNTER'S  DEVOTED  BROTHER 


FORE  WORD 

The  aim  of  this  little  book  is  rather  the  instruction  of 
Youth  than  the  edification  of  Age.  With  that  intent,  all 
statements  herein  which  concern  the  habits  of  our  animal 
friends  have  been  referred  to  Mr.  Hornaday,  director  of 
the  Bronx  Park  Zoo,  Mr.  John  Burroughs,  Mr.  C.  G.  D. 
Roberts,  and  Mr.  Jack  London.  These  gentlemen  admit  the 
accuracy  of  certain  facts  presented,  and  their  ignorance  of 
others. 

It  was  the  author  s  earnest  desire  to  secure  the  assist 
ance  of  some  artist  of  peculiar  intelligence,  whose  sympa 
thetic  knowledge  of  animal  life,  like  that  of  Mr.  Ernest 
Thompson-Seton,  would  enable  him  to  see  deeper  than  mere 
outward  habit,  and  interpret  the  soul.  Such  a  one  was 
found  in  Mr.  Blaisdell,  who  has  perpetrated  all  of  tJie 
illustrations  for  this  book,  except  the  one  on  page  72  ;  that 
was  a  spontaneous  conception  of  the  author* 

Grateful  acknowledgments  are  due  Messrs.  Harper  & 
Bros,  for  permission  to  use  much  of  tJie  material  which 
appears  here. 

The  Author. 


INTRODUCTION  BY  GELETT  BURGESS.       ....       ....       7 

RECOLLECTIONS      .'      .       .       .       . 9 

CONCERNING  THE  SLOWNESS  OF  THE  SLOTH 13 

A  LOVE  MATCH .     16 

THE  GLAD  YOUNG  CHAMOIS 18 

THE  APTERYX  (BEAST) 20 

A  TALE  WITH  A  MORAL 22 

To  A  PIG  ......... 24 

THE  PLAINT  OF  THE  ANONYMOUS  ONE    ........     26 

THE  FIRESIDE  ELEPHANT .       .       .28 

THE  OSTRICH  .       ...       .       .       .       .       , 30 

THE  GNU  WOOING .     32 

A  RONDEAU  OF  REMORSE .     34 

REMARKS  FROM  THE  PUP        . 36 

ALACK,   A  YAK      .    -^ . /.•  ..^-.--r-      .........     38 

THE  TAIL  OF  THE  KINKAJU  .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .    .  .       •.     40 

THE  A-OU-DAD      .       . '  •  r      .  .  r.       .       .       .       .       .  .       .       .42 

THE  O-K-A-P-I        .....       .       ...       .       .       .  .      .       .44 

BALLADE  TO  A  LARGE  OYSTER    .     !.» '     .      .       .       .  .       .       .46 

5 


PAGE 

THE  FIRST  HONEYMOON   .       .       .       .       .       . 48 

BEAR  STORIES        ....       .       .       .     ••>  '     .       .       .       .       .  .     50 

WOOD  Music  .       .       .       .       .       .       ,       .       .       .       .       .       .       .  52 

THE  WOOIN'    .       .       „     ".'.    -.       .       «     '.       .       ....       .  .54 

THE  AMBITIOUS  CROW       .       .       .      _.       ....       .       .       .  .     55 

THE  PELICAN.       .       .       .       .       .       .       ,       .       .       .       .       .     .;".  .     58 

IN  THE  CIRCUS  DRESSING-ROOM  .       ,       .       ...      .....     59 

THE  OWL  ON  ECONOMY    .       .       .-     .       .     -,       ....       .  .     60 

THE  CAT  OF  MANY  LIVES      .       .       .       .       .       ....       .       .  .     61 

IN    THE    HORSPITAL        .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          ,          .          ,          .  .       62 

THE  PORCUPINE -     ,       .       .       ..      .       .  .     63 

THE  WOODCHUCK .       .       ....       .  .     64 

THE  RABBIT    ...........       .       .       .  .     65 

THE  GOAT .       .       .       ....  .66 

THE  DUEL .       .       .  .     67 

HORSE  DREAMS ......       .  ,68 

THE  Fox  .       .       . .       ...      .       .  .     69 

THE  GARGOYLE     .       .       .       .,,-*:'.       ....       .       .       .       .  .70 

THE  FLEA .       ...       ...       .  .72 


INTRODUCTION 

SAID  the  Kinkajou  to  the  mournful  Gnu, 

"  Now,  isn't  it  really  sad, 
The  way  B.  J.,  in  his  beastly  way, 

Has  guyed  the  old  A-ou-dad!" 
And  the  Gnu  replied,  as  he  softly  sighed, 

"We  must  all  be  guyed,  alack! 
But  me  for  the  wilds,  when  I  see  this  child's 

Epitome  of  the  Yak!" 

And  the  Oyster  said,  "  It  makes  me  squirm 
When  I  think  of  his  lines  on  the  Early  Worm!" 

— GELETT  BURGESS. 


PORTRAIT    OF   THE   AUTHOR. 

(BY    THE   ARTIST.) 


PORTRAIT   OF   THE   ARTIST. 

(BY    THE    AUTHOR.) 


RECOLLECTIONS 

IN  the  days  of  braggart  youth  (though,  as  now,  I  spoke  the 

truth) 
Of  full  appreciation  oft  I  dreamt  ; 

Now  I'm  old,  my  deeds  are  more  than  the  sands  upon  the  shore, 
Yet  I've  learned  to  treat  all  sceptics  with  contempt- 
Exempt 
Am  I  from  all  emotion  save  contempt. 

Wild  beasts  of  every  sort  I  have  hunted  down  for  sport, 

From  Vlwostowck  to  the  land  of  the  Pooguls ; 
And  those  I  did  not  kill  I  have  led  around  at  will, 

For  I  have  a  winning  way  with  animuls 

Which  lulls 

The  passions  of  the  wildest  animuls. 

9 


As  a  youth  I  had  a  rub  with  a  yellow  bobtailed  Blub— 

I  was  hunting-  in  the  woods  of  Whangaree. 
He  was  ten-foot-seven  high,  but  I  smote  him  in  the  eye, 

Then,  not  knowing  he  was  dead,  went  up  a  tree— 

Ah  me  ! 

I  was  young  and  ran  for  refuge  up  a  tree  ! 

How  one's  recollections    pour  through  the  past's  half-opened 

door  ! 
Twas  about  that  time  I  roamed  the  Rumpic  Zone, 


And  I  fought  an  angry  Swot  in  a  lonely  desert  spot, 
And  I  skinned  him  single-handed  and  alone — 
Ochone  ! 
I  have  had  my  greatest  triumphs  when  alone  ! 

Yes,  I  remember  once  how  I  killed  a  young  Ger-unce, 

And  its  parents  galloped  up  with  blazing  breath. 
Though  their  pinions  beat  like  flails,  yet  I  tied  their  giant  tails? 

Then    I    waited   till   they 
pulled     themselves     to 
death. 
I  gueth 

You   seldom   see   a   more 
exciting  death  ! 


But  I  spent  my  proudest  day  on  the  shores  of  Doodel  Bay ; 
There  I  slew  a  huge  Pohunk,  ere  I  was  dressed, 

With  two   Whoopees  and  a  bunch  of  wild   Flop-cats  before 

lunch- 
Then  I  gave  the  afternoon  to  needed  rest  : 
'Twas  best 
To  leave  the  smaller  game-birds  to  the  rest. 

But  'twas  near  that  very  shore  that  a  million  (maybe  more  !) 

Wild  cannibals  my  prowess  overcame  ; 
And  upon  the  Isle  of  Ghoo  I  was  made  into  a  stew  : 

'Tis  the  one  disgrace  attaching  to  my  name  ; 

With  shame 

I  admit  this  single  blemish  on  my  name. 


CONCERNING  THE  SLOWNESS  OF  THE   SLOTH 


MY  child,  how  doth 
The  gentle  Sloth 

Improve  each  hour  where'er  he  go'th  ? 
'Tis  true  that  he, 
Unlike  the  Bee, 
Seeks  not  for  honey  ceaselessly. 
13 


He's  not  inclined 

To  slave,  I  find, 

For  others,  like  the  faithful  hind ; 

Nor  as  the  ant 

To  toil  and  pant— 

He  either  won't  or  else  he  can't. 


Yet  there  are  chaps 

Like  him,  perhaps, 

Crushed  down  'neath  heavy  handicaps, 

And  'tis  our  place 

The  facts  to  face 

And  honestly  to  view  his  case. 


Where'er  he  goes, 

He  always  knows 

He  has  no  full  supply  of  toes; 

That's  \vhy  he's  not 

Inclined  to  trot, 

Lest  he  should  harm  the  few  he's  got. 


The  very  crown 
Of  his  renown 

Is  walking  branches  upside  down. 
It  is  a  ruse 
That  don't  conduce 
To  hurry.     Also,  what's  the  use? 
14 


And  if  you'll  look 

In  any  book 

You'll  find  him,  if  I'm  not  mistook, 

Entitled  thus  : 

Didactylus, 

Or  A-i  Arctopithicus. 

That  name,  I  guess, 

You  will  confess, 

Would  render  you  ambitionless  ! 

So,  goodness  knowth, 

That's  why  I'm  loath 

To  cast  aspersion  on  the  Sloth. 


A    LOVE    MATCH 

TWAS  at  the  races  that  they  met ;  the  Jungle  A.  A.  U. 

Had  opened  an  athletic  field  upon  the  Upper  Nile. 
Beneath  her  frank,  admiring  gaze  he  strove  the  best  he  knew, 

And  won  a  two-mile  handicap  against  the  crocodile. 
It  was  a  contest  fine  to  see  !     The  crowd  grew  boisterous 
And  madly  shouted,  "Hip,  hip,  hip,  hip,  Hipp — opotamus  !  " 

16 


Though  Miss  Rhinoceros's  beaux  referred  to  him  with  scorn, 
'Twas  plain   she'd   eyes  for  no  one  else.      "That  brow! 

Those  manly  feet  ! " 

"  I'm  glad  he  won  ! "  she  cried  again,  and  tooted  on  her  horn— 
And  so  her  friend  Miss  Lioness  contrived  to  have  them 

meet. 
''Such  graceful  embonpoint!"    he   sighed,  his   hand  upon  his 

heart. 
'Twas  clear  to  all  who  stood  about  he  loved  her  from  the  start. 

The  Jungle  felt  no  great  surprise  when  soon  their  cards  were 
out. 

The  wedding  was  a  fine  affair,  the  sourest  critics  grant ; 
Though  Dean  Giraffe  is  Higher  Church,  there's  very  little  doubt 

That  all  were  better  satisfied  with  Bishop  L.  E.  Phant. 


And  now,  if  Heaven 
send  them  twins,  'twill 
save  a  lot  of  fuss 

To  name  them  Hippo- 
roceros  and  Rhinopo- 
tamus. 


THE   GLAD    YOUNG   CHAMOIS 

How  lightly  leaps  the  youthful  chamois 
From  rock  to  rock  and  never  misses  ! 

I  always  get  all  cold  and  clamois 

When  near  the  edge  of  precipisses. 

Confronted  by  some  yawning  chasm, 

He  bleats  not  for  his  sire  or  mamois 

(That  is,  supposing  that  he  has'm), 

But  yawns  himself — the  bold  young  lamois  ! 

18 


He  is  a  thing  of  beauty  always  ; 

And  when  he  dies,  a  gray  old  ramois, 
Leaves  us  his  horns  to  deck  our  hallways  ; 

His  skin  cleans  teaspoons,  soiled  or  jamois. 

I  shouldn't  like  to  be  a  chamois, 

However  much  I  am  his  debtor. 

I  hate  to  run  and  jump  ;  why,  damois, 
'Most  any  job  would  suit  me  bebtor  ! 


THE   APTERYX 

(BEAST) 


HAVE  you  heard  of  the  truly  terrible  fix 
Of  the  miscellaneous  Apteryx  ? 
It  sits  and  mourns,  in  a  voice  forlorn  : 
"  Oh,  what  and  why  was  I  ever  born  ?  " 
(But  an  answering  word  it  ne'er  has  heard) 
"  Oh,  am  I  a  beast  or  am  I  a  bird  ? 
The  worst  of  tricks  'twas  thus  to  mix 
The  family  tree  of  the  Apteryx  ! 

"  At  times,  in  spite  of  my  wingless  state, 

I  claim  I'm  an  avis  vertebrate  ; 

And  I  prove  my  point  on  weightiest  grounds 

By  laying  an  egg  of  several  pounds. 

But  the  birds  all  say  who  chance  that  way, 

*  For  a  beast,  that's  a  most  remarkable  lay  ! ' 

And  each  one  kicks  when  asked  to  mix 

In  a  social  way  with  the  Apteryx. 


"  Ah  me  !     What  manner  of  thing  am  I  ? 
Though  I've  hairy  hide  and  I  cannot  fly, 
When  beasts  in  a  cousinly  way  I  greet, 
They  spot  my  bill  and  my  birdlike  feet. 

Dear,  kind  artiste,  this  time  at  least 
Beneath  my  portrait  write  *  A  Beast ' ; 
And  if  it  sticks,  and  no  one  kicks, 
You'll  earn  the  love  of  the  Apteryx." 


MORAL 


TWAS  a  gloomy  glade  'mid  the  lowering  shade 

Of  a  forest  dank  and  dark  ; 
And  every  decent  creature  slept, 
For  the  gray  of  dawn  had  scarcely  crept 

O'er  the  morning  sky.     But  hark  ! 
Amid  the  silence  there  may  be  heard 
The  drowsy  chirp  of  the  Early  Bird. 

To  the  ground  he  flits,  where  he  lightly  sits, 
Then  hops  with  a  movement  gay. 

"  Cheep-cheep,  te-whit !"  and  he  flaps  his  wings; 

"  Oh,  I  am  the  Early  Bird,"  he  sings, 
And  also  "  Tu-lu-ra-lay  !  " 

But  though  he  carols  it  through  and  through, 

His  joyful  warble  does  not  ring  true  ! 


Lo,  a  twig  that  lies  beneath  his  eyes 
Of  a  sudden  appears  to  squirm  ! 
And  there  comes  from  under  his  very  feet 
A  faint  fine  sound  that  I  can't  repeat— 

The  voice  of  the  Early  Worm  ! 
And  the  glade  is  stiller  than  still  can  be 
At  thought  of  the  coming  tragedy. 

"  It  is  up  to  me,"  sobbed  the  Worm,  "  to  flee, 
Were  I  not  such  a  sleepy  thing." 

But  the  Bird  was  wabbly  on  his  feet ; 

"  I'm  far  too  drowsy,"  he  sighed,  "to  eat!" 
And  his  head  fell  under  his  wing. 

And,  sweetly  mingled,  there  soon  were  heard 

The  snores  of  the  Worm  and  the  Early  Bird. 


TO   A    PIG 

BARDS  and  sages,  through  the  ages 
(Winning  fame  instead  of  wages), 
Have  mussed  up  a  million  pages 

With  their  outcries,  small  and  big, 
Singing  wrongs  that  should  be  righted, 
Causes  blighted,  heroes  slighted — 
Yet  no  song  have  they  indited 
To  the  Pig. 

Gentle  Porcus,  suoid  mammal, 

Does  the  thought  that  lard  and  ham'll 

Be  your  future  never  trammel 

Your  fond  fancies  as  you  dig  ? 
Does  it  harrow  to  the  marrow, 
As  you  pace  your  quarters  narrow, 
Dreaming  of  the  stoned  glory 
Of  the  Pig? 
24 


For  time  was,  ere  man  got  at  youv 
Using  squalid  means  to  fat  you, 
That  you  were  to  be  congratu- 

Lated  on  a  figure  trig  ; 
And  most  daintily  you  ate  your 
Food,  less  mingled  in  its  nature  ; 
Fine  of  face,  full  fair  and  graceful 
Was  the  Pig. 

Oh,  S.  P.  C.  A.,  be  gracious  ; 
If  your  sympathies  be  spacious, 
Bar  such  treatment  contumacious — 

Teach  that  it  is  infra  dig.  ; 
For  although  some  genius  flighty 
Has  described  the  pen  as  mighty, 
You'll  admit  a  sward  were  fitter 
For  the  Pig. 


THE    PLAINT   OF   THE   ANONYMOUS   ONE 

I  WANDER  vainly  o'er  the  land 

To  find  one  mortal  with  a  chunk 

Of  fairness  that  will  bid  him  stand 
And  hear  the  pleadings  of— 

I  shrunk 

E'en  then  from  uttering  a  word 

In  drawing-rooms  so  seldom  heard  ! 

Ah,  what  avails  me  beauty,  wit, 

Or  craft,  or  marksmanship,  or  spunk, 

If  friendship  fails  and  scorns  to  sit 
In  sweet  communion  with— 

I've  drunk 

Some  drug,  I  fear,  for  now  I  find 

My  very  name  has  slipped  my  mind ! 

I  never  use  my  meanest  gift 

Unjustified,  yet  like  a  monk 
Through  shunned  solitudes  I  drift, 

Unloved,  unsought,  and  named — 

I've  sunk 

26 


To  such  a  depth  I  do  not  dare 

To  breathe  the  honest  name  I  bear. 

I  never  win  a  word  of  praise 

For  all  my  charms,  yet  I  have  thunk 
And  thunk  and  thunk  of  different  ways 

To  cleanse  the  scutcheon  of— 

I  funk 

Each  time  I  try !     Would  I  could  learn 
To  face  a  shame  I  did  not  earn  ! 

If  I  were  called  a  Bobolink, 

A  Rose,  or  Peewee,  or  Pohunk, 

I'd  gain  a  social  place,  I  think, 
That's  now  forbidden  to— 

I've  slunk 

So  often  from  the  world's  neglect, 

I'm  losing  fast  my  self-respect ! 


AH  me,  how  frequently  I  pant 

To  be  a  stately  Elephant ! 

With  skin  so  thick  and  strength  so  great, 

He  scorns  the  puny  pricks  of  fate, 

The  while  his  shoulders  well  may  bear 

A  really  untold  weight  of  care. 

Ah,  were  I  he,  I  will  aver, 

I'd  be  a  model  householder ! 

Tis  possible,  I  grant  you,  that 
He  is  not  suited  to  a  flat ; 
Yet  you'll  admit  at  once  that  he 
Is  builded  for  economy. 

He  need  not  stoop  to  pick  things  up  ; 

He  needs  no  valet,  cook,  nor  maid  ; 
His  hand  is  spoon  and  fork  and  cup, 

And  e'en  a  straw  for  lemonade  ! 

28 


And  what  conveniences  are  these  : 

When  days  are  hot  in  fourth-floor  rears, 
To  have  a  shower-bath  when  you  please 

And  sit  a-fanning  with  your  ears  ; 
Or  when  the  days  are  wintry  chill, 

And  windows  must  the  air  exclude, 
To  leave  one's  nose  across  the  sill 

While  folk  below  prepare  their  food. 

The  Fireside  Elephant's  a  thing 
Worth  any  bard's  imagining  I 
For  when  his  spouse  prepares  to  darn, 
His  tusks  may  hold  a  skein  of  yarn, 
The  while,  a  cook-book  in  his  nose, 
He  rocks  the  cradle  with  his  toes, 
And  trumpets  in  a  manner  mild 
To  gratify  his  happy  child. 

Where  is  the  man  who  would  not  pant 
To  be  a  gentle  Elephant  ? 


THE   OSTRICH 

A  QUEERER  bird  has  ne'er  occurred 
Than  is  the  ostrich,  so  I've  heard. 

Though  women  flock  from  west  and  east 
To  pluck  him  for  their  finery, 
He  differs  much  from  man,  for  he 

Don't  care  for  plucking  in  the  least. 
(His  hide  is  thick,  his  speed  is  quick, 
And  jiminy  !  how  he  can  kick  !) 

His  special  pride  is  his  inside  : 

It's  double-lined  with  Bess'mer  hide. 

He  has  no  fear  of  golden  bucks 
Or  other  dainties  of  that  ilk  ; 
He  laughs  at  cucumbers  and  milk — 

O'er  pie  and  Neuburg  gayly  clucks. 
(There  is  no  strife  in  his  home  life 
O'er  biscuit  builded  by  his  wife.) 
30 


His  motto  is,  "  I  mind  my  biz, 
Whatever  troubles  have  ariz." 

When,  overcome  with  shame,  he  tries 
To  shun  the  glaring  public  light, 
He  thinks  he's  wholly  hid  from  sight 

If  he  has  merely  shut  his  eyes. 
(That  frame  of  mind  you'll  often  find 
Has  currency  with  humankind.) 


A   Game  of  Hide  and  Seek. 


3'- 


THE   GNU   WOOING 

THERE  was  a  lovely  lady  Gnu 
Who  browsed  beneath  a  spreading  yew 
Its  stately  height  was  her  delight ; 

A  truly  cooling  shade  it  threw. 

Upon  it  little  tendrils  grew 

Which  gave  her  gentle  joy  to  chew. 
Yet  oft  she  sighed,  a-gazing  wide, 

And  wished  she  knew  another  Gnu 

(Some  newer  Gnu  beneath  the  yew 

To  tell  her  tiny  troubles  to). 

She  lived  the  idle  moments  through, 
And  days  in  dull  succession  flew, 

Till  one  fine  eve  she  ceased  to  grieve — 
A  manly  stranger  met  her  view. 
He  gave  a  courtly  bow  or  two ; 
She  coolly  looked  him  through  and  through : 

"  I  fear  you  make  some  slight  mistake — 
Perhaps  it  is  the  yew  you  knew  !" 
(Its  branches  blew  and  seemed  to  coo, 
"  Your  cue,  new  Gnu  ;  it's  up  to  you  !  ") 
32 


Said  he :  "  If  guests  you  would  eschew, 
I'll  say  adieu  without  ado ; 

But,  let  me  add,  I  knew  your  dad ; 
I'm  on  page  two,  the  Gnus'  Who's  Who." 
"  Forgive,"  she  cried,  "  the  snub  I  threw  ! 
I  feared  you  were  some  parvegnu ! 

'Tis  my  regret  we've  never  met — 
I  knew  a  Gnu  who  knew  of  you." 
(This  wasn't  true — what's  that  to  you  ? 
The  new  Gnu  knew  ;  she  knew  he  knew.) 

"  Though  there  are  other  trees,  'tis  true," 
Said  she,  "  if  you're  attracted  to 

The  yews  I  use,  and  choose  to  chews 
Their  yewy  dewy  tendrils,  do!" 

The  end  is  easily  in  view  : 
He  wed  her  in  a  week  or  two. 

The  "  Daily  Gnus  "  did  quite  enthuse ; 
And  now,  if  all  I  hear  is  true, 
Beneath  that  yew  the  glad  day  through 
There  romps  a  little  gnuey  new. 


A  RONDEAU  OF  REMORSE 

UNHAPPY,  I  observe  the  Ass 
Who  browses  placidly  on  grass, 

Or  bits  of  wood  he  will  devour, 
While  e'en  the  prickly  thistle-flower 
Is  spicing  for  his  garden-sass. 

Last  night  that  lovely  golden  mass 
She  called  a  "  rarebit "  proved  but  brass ; 
And  life  I  gazed  at  through  a  sour 
Unhappy  eye. 

34 


And  as  this  sleepless  night  I  pass 

I  learn  that  he  who  has,  alas ! 

An  ass's  judgment  for  his  dower 
May  lack  the  beast's  digestive  power. 

Oh,  miserie  !     All  flesh  is  grass! 
Unhappy  I  ! 


35 


REMARKS    FROM    THE    PUP 

SHE'S  taught  me  that  I  mustn't  bark 
At  little  noises  after  dark, 
But  just  refrain  from  any  fuss 
Until  I'm  sure  they're  dangerous. 
This  would  be  easier,  I've  felt, 
If  noises  could  be  seen  or  smelt. 

She's  very  wise,  I  have  no  doubt, 
And  plans  ahead  what  she's  about; 
Yet  after  eating,  every  day, 
She  throws  her  nicest  bones  away. 
If  she  were  really  less  obtuse 
She'd  bury  them  for  future  use. 

But  that  which  makes  me  doubt  the  most 
Those  higher  powers  that  humans  boast 
Is  not  so  much  a  fault  like  that, 
Nor  yet  her  fondness  for  the  cat, 
But  on  our  pleasant  country  strolls 
Her  dull  indifference  to  holes  ! 
36 


Ah  me!  what  treasures  might  be  found 

In  holes  that  lead  to  underground  ! 

However  vague  or  small  one  is, 

It  sends  me  into  ecstasies ; 

While  she,  alas !  stands  by  to  scoff, 

Or  meanly  comes  to  call  me  off. 

Oh,  if  I  once  had  time  to  spend 
To  reach  a  hole's  extremest  end, 
I'd  grab  it  fast,  without  a  doubt, 
And  promptly  pull  it  inside  out  ; 
Then  drag  it  home  with  all  my  power 
To  chew  on  in  a  leisure  hour. 

Of  all  the  mistresses  there  are, 

Mine  is  the  loveliest  by  far  ! 

Fain  would  I  wag  myself  apart 

If  I  could  thus  reveal  my  heart. 

But  on  some  things,  I  must  conclude, 

Mine  is  the  saner  attitude. 


ALACK,   A   YAK! 

'Mm  pathless  deserts  I  groan  and  grieve  ; 
In  weariest  solitudes  I  leave 

My  track  ; 

Bemoaning  the  fate  that  has  christened  me, 
In  spite  of  my  whiskered  dignity, 

A  Yak! 


O  happy  child  with  the  epithet 
Of  Abe  or  Ike  or  Eliphalet 

Or  Jack, 

You  little  wot  of  the  blush  of  shame 
That  dyes  my  cheek  when  I  hear  the  name 

Of  Yak  ! 

38 


Better  a  bok  or  a  slithy  sloe, 

Or  a  mythical  beast  in  the  starry  zo- 

Diac, 

A  polypod  or  a  pelican, 
An  auk  or  an  ichthyosaurus,  than 

A  Yak! 

And  so,  through  the  valleys  hereabout 
I  sob  this  plea,  and  the  echoes  shout 

It  back  : 

For  the  sake  of  art,  and  my  pride  as  well, 
When  you  write  my  name,  will  you  kindly  spell 

It  Yacque  ! 


WASHINGTON   — • 


THE   TAIL   OF  THE   KINKAJU 

LISTEN,  my  dears,  and  I'll  tell  to  you 
The  tale  of  the  kittenish  Kinkaju. 
His  feet  are  four  and  his  fur  is  fine, 
And  his  ways  are  wary  and  serpentine ; 
And  he  loves  to  live  in  a  city  zoo, 
This  taily  mammalian  Kinkaju. 

And  what,  you  ask, 
does  the  creature 
do, 

This  seemingly  fabu 
lous  Kinkaju  ? 

From  early  dawn  un 
til  very  late 

He  does  naught  else 
but  investigate. 

So  the  hairs  on  the 
end  of  his  nose  are 
few, 

This  peerysome,  query- 
some  Kinkaju. 

If  you  gently  grasp  (and 

w^ith  firmness  too) 
The  nethermost  tip  of  the 

Kinkaju, 

He  bends  in  supple  abandon  and 
He  climbs  his  tail  till  he  gains  your  hand ; 
Then,  if  kindly  disposed,  he  winks  at  you- 
This  sinuous,  grinuous  Kinkaju. 

But  if  perchance  any  harm  you  do 

To  this  highly  sensitive  Kinkaju— 

40 


As  if,  in  a  foolishly  flippant  mood, 
You  should  lift  him  up  and  remove  his  food- 
Beware,  for  he's  powerfully  prone  to  chew ! 
This  kleptophobian  Kinkaju. 

Oh,  far  and  fair  is  the  land  that  grew 
This  gentle  attenuate  Kinkaju  ! 
And  while  he's  nothing  averse  to  roam, 
'Tis  seldom  his  tail  is  so  far  from  home. 
And  so  in  a  verse  I  reveal  to  you 
The  ways  of  the  versytale  Kinkaju. 


THE   A-OU-DAD 

THE  A-ou-dad  with  his  curving  horns 

Is  a  beautiful  sight  to  see, 
And  deep  in  his  noble  heart  he  scorns 

The  sin  of  inconstancy. 
He  sits  in  the  lee  of  the  Gee-gaw  tree 

(Avoiding  a  tropic  tan) 
And  eats  its  fruits — while  the  Whang-bird  hoots  ; 

And  when  he  has  formed  a  plan 
There's  not  an  obstacle,  good  or  bad, 
That  can  stay  the  way  of  the  A-ou-dad. 

When  the  fruit  hangs  high  he  does  not  pass  by 

Or  moan  in  a  mood  forlorn, 
But  he  leaps  to  a  limb  within  reach  of  him 

And  hangs  by  a  crescent  horn. 


Nor  does  he  dismay  if  the  horn  gives  way 
(As  indeed  it  has  often  done), 

But  'neath  the  tree  he  remains  till  he 
Has  sprouted  another  one. 

Tis  said  persistency  is  a  fad 

With  the  acrobatical  A-ou-dad. 


Twere  wise,  my  dear,  with  a 

mind  sincere 
To  study  your  household 

pets; 
For  each  has  ways  to  evoke  your 

praise— 

And  many  a  hint  one  gets 
From    the    able   ant,    or    the    cor 
morant, 
Or  the  mouse  with  its  frugal 

bent ; 
And  if  you've  a  cat  you  may  learn 

of  that 

The  virtue  of  sweet  content. 
But,  oh,  I  am  sorry  you  never  had 
An  active  African  A-ou-dad ! 

43 


THE   0-K-A-P-I 

London,  May  20. — Captain  Gosling,  of  the  Alexander-Gosling  expedition  in 
Africa,  writes  that  Captain  Alexander  has  secured  a  living  specimen  of  the  okapi. 

This  is  the  first  time  a  white  man  has  ever  seen  a  living  okapi.  The  first  skin  of 
that  animal  ever  seen  in  Europe  was  sent  to  the  British  Museum  by  Sir  Harry 
Johnston  in  1901. — Daily  Newspaper. 

THROUGH  Afric's  hidden  heart  I  roam 
In  regions  seldom  trod  by  man  ; 

My  rainbow  hues  light  up  the  gloam 
As  far  as  mortal  eyes  might  scan. 

What  wonder  science  sighed  to  see 

A  living,  breathing  Okapi ! 

My  face  is  yellow-white,  my  pate 

Is  chestnut,  while  my  sides  and  feet 

Are  mottled  ;  and  I  beg  to  state 
I  am  not  good  for  men  to  eat. 

O'er  swamp  and  desert,  dry  or  sloppy, 

Unhindered  roves  the  rare  Okapi. 

44 


The  puny  horse  must  feel  forlorn — 

The  proud  giraffe,  oh,  where  is  he  ? 

Pooh  !  pooh  !  thou  fabled  unicorn— 

My  neck  is  thick,  my  horns  are  three. 

E'en  man  seems  humbled  since  his  eye 

Has  viewed  the  glorious  Okapi. 

'Tis  but  a  subtle  mark  of  fame 

And  tribute  to  exclusive  ways, 

That  poets  can't  pronounce  my  name 

When  sounding  paeans  in  my  praise. 

Yet  none  the  less  it  makes  them  happy 

To  sing  the  newly  gained  Okapi. 


r 


O 


45 


BALLADE  TO  A  LARGE  OYSTER 

WRAPPED  in  calm  quiescentness, 

Lying  limp  upon  my  plate, 

Lo,  the  frowning  fork  of  Fate 
Hangs  a  moment  motionless. 

Tell  me  of  your  former  state  : 
Did  some  vandal  kitchen-wight 
Dare  with  oyster-knife  to  smite 

This  wee  house  and  scar  your  cheek  ? 
What  a  tale  you  would  recite, 

Oyster,  if  you  could  but  speak  ! 

Ere  you  fell  in  this  duress, 

Did  you  cling,  a  potentate — 
Silent,  solemn,  incrustate — 

To  some  deep-sea  rockiness  ? 

Did  the  snails  and  mussels  prate 

Of  your  deeds  in  armor  dight — 

How  you  nobly  put  to  flight 

Lobster  foes  ?     Say,  would  you  shriek 

Kingly  curses  on  your  plight, 

Oyster,  if  you  could  but  speak  ? 

46 


May  a  clumsy  mammal  guess 

How  you  wooed  and  won  your  mate  ? 

Or  does  oyster  maid  await, 
In  her  grot,  your  fond  caress  ? 

Had  you  vices  of  the  great, 
Roistering,  mayhap,  at  night, 
Shell-fish  ?     'Tis  a  monarch's  right ! 

Did  you  join  the  actor  clique- 
Was  some  star-fish  your  delight  ? 

Oyster,  if  you  could  but  speak  ! 

Waiter,  pass  the  salt ;  you  might 
Add  tabasco's  pungent  bite, 

This  horseradish  is  so  weak. 


Ere  you  slip  from  mortal  sight, 

Oyster,  if  you  could  but  speak ! 


THE   FIRST    HONEYMOON 

WHEN  the  Little  Bear  came  to  the  Solar  Zone, 

A  good  many  years  ago, 
The  Great  Bear  was  sitting  there  all  alone 
Sipping  his  milk  and  gnawing  a  bone 

And  growling  the  livelong  day  ; 
And  things  were  gloomy  as  they  could  be 
Up  there  in  the  stellar  managerie. 

The  Little  Bear  stood  on  her  graceful  tail 

And  spun  round  the  Polar  Star: 
The  old  Rainmaker  he  dropped  his  pail, 
And  the  Bull  and  the  Goat  and  the  floppety  Whale 

Came  hurrying  from  afar; 
And  every  one  laughed  and  said,  "  Dear  me, 
That's  the  funniest  sight  I  ever  see!" 

The  Dog  Star  barked  till  it  disagreed 

With  his  various  works  within, 

But  the  Great  Bear  thought,  as  he  stopped  his  feed, 
"  That's  just  the  sort  of  a  wife  I  need 

To  polish  the  dipper-tin, 
And  keep  things  jolly  and  bright  at  home 
For  a  chap  who  hasn't  a  chance  to  roam." 

They  went  to  be  married  that  very  day, 

And  Saturn  he  gave  the  ring. 
And  honey  flowed  in  the  Milky  Way, 
And  the  Man  in  the  Moon  he  bid  them  stay 

A  week  in  his  airy  swing. 

For  days  and  days  they  would  sit  and  spoon — 
And  that  was  the  earliest  honeymoon. 

48 


49 


BEAR   STORIES 


AT  the  mystic  height  of  a  starry  night, 
In  the  heart  of  a  stilly  wood, 

'Mid  the  rustling  sheaves  of  the  fallen  leaves 
A  gaunt  old  bruin  stood. 

And  his  locks  were  gray  as  a  winter  day 
And  covered  him  like  a  hood. 
50 


All  seated  round  on  the  grassy  ground 

Were  the  little  forest  folk, 
And  their  ears  were  keyed,  as  they  drank  with  greed 

Each  husky  word  he  spoke. 
And  if  he  ceased,  nor  bird  nor  beast 

The  weighty  stillness  broke. 

"  Lo,  I  am  the  bear — the  monster  rare — 

That  the  summer-boarders  see  ; 
I  prowl  about  when  the  moon  is  out, 

Where  strolling  couples  be, 
And  I'm  yearly  paid  to  be  sore  afraid 

When  the  young  man  shouts  at  me. 

"  Lo,  I  am  the  beast  that's  slain  at  least 

Three  hundred  times  a  year ; 
And  my  corpse  is  lost,  at  fearful  cost, 

O'er  precipices  sheer, 
With  nary  a  hoof  or  hide  in  proof 

Of  the  huntsman's  bold  career. 

"  Yes,  I  am  the  last  of  my  ancient  caste 

In  all  of  these  hills  and  dells  ; 
At  my  little  jokes  on  the  city  folks 

Each  hunter's  bosom  swells, 
And  I  draw  my  pay  in  a  regular  way 

From  the  men  who  run  hotels." 


WOOD    MUSIC 

THE  new  woods,  the  dew  woods, — 

Dim  aisles  that  waken  soon 
To  paeans  of  thanksgiving 

For  dawn-light  and  the  boon 
Of  warmth  and  very  living,— 

'Tis  the  music  of  the  woods  in  June. 
The  jewelled  sheens  outrival 

The  day  God's  world  began  ; 
Each  tiny  thing  is  singing, 
Its  gentle  heart  outflinging,— 
The  June  woods,  unhewn  woods, 

The  very  home  of  Pan. 
52 


The  lush  woods,  the  thrush  woods, 

The  senses  well  might  swoon, 
For  sound  and  sight  and  smelling 

All  spell  a  song  triune 
That's  madly  gladly  swelling,— 

'Tis  the  music  of  the  woods  in  June. 
But  o'er  the  songs  full-throated, 

And  humming  insects'  throng, 
There's  still  another  singing,— 
A  magic  rhythm  swinging,— 
The  June  woods,  the  noon  woods, 

Where  lurks  a  hidden  song. 

The  grey  woods,  the  fey  woods, 

When  drowsy  voices  croon  ; 
Then  hark !  the  silence  breaking, 

Above  the  frog's  bassoon,— 
'Tis  Pan's  own  merrymaking, 

Tis  the  music  of  the  woods  in  June  ! 
We  may  not  see  the  players, 

Nor  learn  their  faerie  tune, 
Save  tiny  tempting  snatches, 
And  lilting,  luring  catches  ;— 
The  June  woods,  the  moon  woods, 

The  witching  woods  in  June. 


53 


/ 


COME  live  with  me  and  be  my  Bruin, 

And  I  will  be  your  Bunny  ! 
I've  waited  long  to  welcome  you  in 
A  hollow  log  there's  room  for  two  in, 
Where  I  have  carrots  stored  for  chewin', 

With  locusts  and  wild  honey. 
Fair  creature  !     My  poor  heart's  undoin' ! 
Pray  do  not  keep  me  ever  suin', — 

Through  rainy  days  and  sunny ! 
Refuse,  and  leave  my  life  a  ruin ! 
Accept,  and  I'll  be  up  and  doin'- 
Ah,  come  with  me  and  be  my  Bruin, 

And  I  will  be  your  Bunny. 

54 


THE   AMBITIOUS   CROW 

A  CROW  who  had  chanced  by  a  school  one  day 

And  listened  a  bit  too  long, 
Unburdened  his  soul  to  an  oriole 

Who  advertised  lessons  in  song  ; 
"They  say,"  he  stormed,  "that  the  lark  is  king, 
And  all  because  he  assumes  to  sing  ! " 

The  oriole  called  for  an  E  in  alt, 

Then  hastily  cried,  "  Pray  pause  ! 

For  singing,  in  short,  is  not  your  forte,— 
'Tis  easy  to  tell  the  caws. 

Your  obvious  bent  '11  be  instrumental ; 

My  little  bill  will  be  incidental." 

55 


She  started  him  in  with  a  violin, 

And  oft  his  ambition  stirred 
By  a  little  praise  in  the  well-known  phrase, 

"  You  certainly  are  a  bird  !  " 
In  a  month  she  said,  with  a  fine  decision, 
There  never  was  music  equal  to  his'n. 

The  crow  contentedly  paid  the  bill, 
And  flew  on  his  homeward  way ; 

And  he  called  the  court  to  his  pine  resort,— 
They  gathered  and  heard  him  play, 

With  timbre  rare,  a  popular  air, 

And  a  bit  of  Grieg  and  "The  Maiden's  Prayer." 

The  hullabaloo  ere  he'd  gotten  through 

Was  a  truly  deafening  thing  ; 
"  Oh,  what  is  the  sense  of  instruments," 

They  cried,  "if  one  can  but  sing?" 
And  every  one  knows  the  song  of  a  crow's 
The  best  of  music  as  music  goes  ! " 

They  broke  the  fiddle  in  bits,  to  teach 
The  moral  each  child  should  know : 

That  discontent  with  one's  lot  is  not 
Becoming  a  decent  crow  ; 

And  if  you  would  thwart  its  growth,  you  ourght 

To  mingle  only  with  your  own  sort. 


57 


THE    PELICAN 

"  MY  dear,"  remarked  the  Pelican,  "you  really  don't  suppose 
I'll  wait  all    night  while   you    attempt   to    powder   up    that 

nose  ? " 

"  My  Love,  the  time  is  wisely  spent  which  goes  to  beautify 
That   feature   of   your  better-half  which  soonest  meets  the 
eye." 

MORAL 

Some  folk  their  features  prominent  in  humble  phrase  contemn ; 
The  wise  pursue  a  different  tack  and  make  the  most  of  them. 

58 


IN    THE   CIRCUS    DRESSING-ROOM 

THE  lion  and  the  hippo  were  both  dressing  in  a  rush. 

"  Wish  I  was  you,"  the  lion  said,  "  and  had  no  hair  to  brush  ! " 

"  You  think  your  hair  is  bothersome,"  the  hippo  said ;    "  Oh, 

bosh! 
It's  nothing  to  the  care  I  have  with  all  this  face  to  wash  ! " 

MORAL 

Oh,  little  boys  that  hate  to  brush  your  hair  and  wash  your 

faces, 
How  would  you  like  it  if  you  were  in  these  poor  creatures' 

places  ? 
But  if,  when  washing  time  comes  round,  you  always  make  a 

fuss, 
You'll  turn  into  a  lion  or  a  hippopotamus. 

59 


THE   OWL   ON    ECONOMY 

"  ALAS,  dear  sir,  observe  my  plight,"  the  crow  in  anguish  cried ; 
"  And  all  because  I  sought  and  found  a  frugal-minded  bride. 
She  wouldn't    purchase   camphor-balls  because  of   what   they 

cost, 
And  now  observe  this  winter  coat, — my  dignity  is  lost ! " 

MORAL 
"  This  constant   cry,   '  Economy,' "  the  owl   said,   "  makes   me 

wroth  ; 
It  does  no  good  to  any  one,  except,  of  course,  the  moth." 


60 


THE   CAT    OF   MANY    LIVES 

"  MARIA  dear,"  cried  Thomas,  "my  heart  is  tried  and  true  ; 

If  you  will  but  accept  my  suit  I'll  live  my  life  for  you." 
"One  life  with  you,"  she  answered  him,  "would  be  a  pleasant 
fate, 

But  tell  me,  pray,  what  ladies  fair  will  share  the  other  eight  ?" 

MORAL 

My  son,  when  you  are  bluffing  for  a  jack-pot  that  you  prize, 
Twill  spoil  your  game  if  you  withhold  a  stack  of  any  size. 

61 


IN    THE    HORSPITAL 

"  SAY,  Doc,  is  it  true,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
With  a  colt  in  my  head  that  I'm  sure  to  get  hoarse  ?  " 
And  the  doctor  replied  with  a  comforting  pat, 
"  It  costs  three  dollars  to  ass  me  that." 


MORAL 

Don't  thrust  any  jokes  on  your  doctor  until 
He's  got  all  his  services  down  in  the  bill. 


62 


THE   PORCUPINE 

THE  Porcupine  once  sought  a  shop  to  get  some  Sunday  clothes ; 
"  I  like  this  coat,"  said  he,  "so  far  as  cut  and  pattern  goes. 
Permit  me  now  to  try  it  on."    The  salesman  looked  him  o'er, — 
"  Folks  ain't  allowed  to  try  on  clothes  until  they're  settled  for." 

MORAL 

My  son,  if  some  fair  maid  demure  your  eye  has  lit  upon, 
Don't  lend  her  your  affections  just  for  her  to  try  them  on. 
For  if  she  be  a  certain  sort,  'tis  oft  the  case,  alack, 
They're  not  in  good  condition  when  you  come  to   get  them 
back. 


THE   WOODCHUCK 

*'  THANK  goodness,"  gasped  Miss  Woodchuck,  as  she  drew  a 

shaking  breath, — 

"  Since  I  saw  Miss  Hippopotamus  I've  worried  half  to  death 
For  fear  she  was  approaching  to  return  a  call  of  mine, 
And  would  count  upon  my  urging  her  to  drop  in  here  to  dine  ! " 


MORAL 


"  Let  this  warning,"  said   her   neighbor,   "  sink   deep   beneath 

your  fur,— 
Be  careful  of  the  social  obligations  you  incur  ! " 


64 


THE   RABBIT 

Miss  RABBIT  had  a  suitor,  and  each  day  he  used  to  send  her 
Some  rare  and  lovely  orchids  from  a  most  expensive  vendor ; 
And  as  she  daily  nibbled  them  with  bites  restrained  and  chaste, 
She  murmured,  "  Beets  are  better  ;  dear  old  Jack  has  such  poor 
taste  ! " 

MORAL 

And  the  moral  to  be  gained  is,  though  your  passion  be  ex 
tensive, 

Some  maids  don't  rate  their  suitors  by  the  gifts  that  are  expen 
sive. 

Don't  squander  cabbage  roses  on  some  damsel  fortunate  whose 

Tastes  may  lean  to  cabbages  and  early  rose  potatoes. 


THE   GOAT 

"  HERE'S   a   senseless   kind    of   cook-hook,"  said   Miss  Goat ; 

"  since  I  began, 
I've  found  no  slightest  mention  of  the  succulent  tin  can  ! " 

MORAL 

If  you  want  to  write  a  cook-book,  or  a  tome  of  any  kind 
To  satisfy  all  critics, — you  must  bear  the  goats  in  mind. 


66 


THE    DUEL 

ON  the  deadly  field  of  honor  they  had  grimly  planned  to  meet  ; 
Apologies  were  hopeless  and  arrangements  were  complete. 
"  But  wait  !  "  the  elephant  cried  out  (he  never  spoke  again), 
"  For  every  single  shot  you  take  I  should  be  given  ten  !  " 


MORAL 


Twas  mentioned  at  the  funeral  that  folks  should  bear  in  mind 
To  formulate  all  clawses  before  a  contract's  signed, 


HORSE    DREAMS 

"An,  Mrs.  Dobbin,"  cried  her  spouse,  "I've  dreamt  a  drean 

to-day  ! 
I  thought  we  were  in  heaven  where  the  streets  are  paved  will 

hay. 

Bewildered  earthly  drivers  ran  afoot  about  the  town, 
While  we,  in   dashing  motor-cars,   sped  round  and  ran  then 

down  !  " 

MORAL 

Sure,  Heaven  is  a  varied  place  with  many  joys  therein, 
For  every  sinner  pictures  it  in  terms  of  his  pet  sin. 

68 


EyftKtt  ftfeiftf  U. 


THE    FOX 

SAID  the  Fox,  "  By  this  maxim  my  heart  has  been  won 
1  To  bed  with  the  chickens  and  up  with  the  sun.' 
If  one  thus  becomes  a  more  virtuous  beast, 
I'll  start  in  by  doing  the  first  part,  at  least." 

MORAL 

Beware  when  a  rascal,  with  villainies  rife, 
Seems  anxious  to  start  on  a  regular  life. 


THE   GARGOYLE 

THE  Gargoyle  is  a  haughty  beast,— 
In  fine  exclusiveness  he  perches 

Upon  cathedrals,  or  at  least 
On  churches. 

Or  in  a  modern  land  like  this  is, 

He'll  stoop  to  public  edifices. 
70 


E'en  when  you  meet  him  all  a-grin 

He's  not  the  handsomest  of  creatures; 

There  is  a  lack  of  team-work  in 
His  features. 

Yet  when  his  countenance  is  sadder, 

Results  are  just  as  bad — or  badder. 


You  scarcely  would  expect  to  find, 
In  searching  any  lands  or  waters, 

Another  beast  who  hadn't  hind- 
-Er  quarters; 

The  Gargoyle  claims  it's  not  refined 

To  have  a  pair  of  legs  behind. 


So,  clinging  with  his  forward  hoofs, 

(Of  dizzy  heights  he's  quite  unfearing), 

He  peers  o'er  edges  of  the  roofs 
With  sneering, 

And  never  sleeps  and  never  eats, 

But  spits  at  people  in  the  streets. 


Oh,  little  boys  who  stand  or  sit 

Upon  some  lofty  edge, — I  wonder 

Do  you  resist  a  wish  to  spit 

On  anything  that's  passing  under? 

Unless  repentently  you  own  up, 

You'll  be  a  Gargoyle  when  you're  grown  up ! 


THE  Flea 

Is  wee, 

But,  Mercy  me ! 

It's  just  as  big  as  it  can  be  ; 

If  bigness  was 

As  bigness  does, 

'T would  be  as  big  as — Dear  me,  suz  ! 


72 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  L/  ST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


MAR 


6  1968 


Book  Slip-15m-8,'52(A2573s4)458 


-106613 


Johnson,  B. 
Beastly  rhymes. 


PS3519 

02 

Bit 


02 
B4- 


106613 


